Disclaimer: Once again, don't own one little bit of Scorpion...

Chapter 5:

Thank you kindly for so many reviews….and thank you for being patient. Life is getting a little crazy here so I'm going to attempt to wrap things up in a few chapters, but thanks in advance for understanding if it takes more than a few days between them. For now this is staying T….contemplating where to go with remaining chapters. Ravaging seems to be a popular notion, but let me know your thoughts. Thank you for reading. Thank you for giving me a place to write. Thank you for all of your juicy suggestions! And thank you for all of your stories too!

Paige stood in the lobby for 15 minutes, a small part of her hoping Simon would come down and offer a gracious apology, but fully knowing that he wouldn't. She deliberated between calling another cab and waiting the storm out and hoofing it to the bus stop she'd seen earlier. She supposed she could call her babysitter, but didn't want to imagine the look of disappointment on Ralph's face as they pulled up to the lobby of the building. She was absolutely not calling Walter. She also eliminated calling Toby or Happy, not willing to endure a humiliating interrogation, or even a silent car ride that she would spend assuming they were mutely judging her. Not that Toby would be mute. The bus stop was the most sensible option. She thanked God for blessing her with a decent sense of direction, and took a moment to pray for a better internal compass when it came to relationships. She took a tissue out of her clutch and dabbed at the two tears that had managed to slip past her resolve, and leaned against the cool window of the lobby and watched the storm. The doorman had come in for shelter from the hard rain, but seemed determined to mind his own business, and hadn't so much as made eye contact with her, let alone offer to call her a cab. After a few more minutes, the rain suddenly stopped. She consulted her phone and saw the green blob on the weather radar rapidly moving away from the area. She sighed and wished she had brought a jacket, but moved through the revolving doors, determined for the walk to the bus stop to clear her head and heart.

The air was that lovely scent of "clean" as she walked the first several blocks, and she made herself look at her surroundings and notice the beautiful architecture of the modern buildings around her and the vivid green of the carefully planned planted trees that adorned the side walk every half block. She tried to ignore the pain in her feet caused by her ridiculous (but really sexy!) heels she had on, and shivered as the wet streets cooled the air. It was starting to become dark. She tried to enjoy the delightful "hiss" of tires on the wet street as cars whizzed past her. She estimated she still had at least 6 blocks to go.

After two more blocks, she removed her shoes (her feet sighing, "thank you!") and focused her vision on the sidewalk terrain in front of her, not wanting to step on anything that might cause injury. The street lights had begun to emit a soft light to help her on her quest, but a mere block before the bus stop, she crossed the now blissfully quiet street and stepped on something that made her wince. She ran her hand over the bottom of her left foot and didn't feel anything and applied pressure on it again, placing her foot lightly on the sidewalk she'd just crossed to. She abruptly pulled her foot back up. "Dammit," she muttered, but determined to get to her destination, she continued, careful to only bear weight on the outside of her foot as she hobbled on.

When she made it to the bus stop, she was thankful she only had to wait a few moments before a bus ambled to the stop, and after looking in her purse, even more thankful that she hadn't thrown her last two dollars at Simon. She sat down on the closest seat and leaned against a window for the second time that night. Before her head made contact with the glass, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Her hair was remarkably still intact, and her make-up not terribly smudged, though the severity of it surprised her. She reached into her purse again for another tissue and tried to wipe away as much of it as she could. "Who are you?" she wondered for the second time that night. And she looked into her own eyes as her lower lip began to tremble, and finally, in the darkness of the bus, began to cry.

-ooo-

She opted to get off the bus a few blocks from the garage. Her foot had begun bleeding and she wanted to attempt a quick clean up before presenting herself to Ralph and the babysitter. She was hopeful (wasn't she?) that Walter would be up in the loft, and she could sneak in and out undetected. A swipe of her credit card for a cab ride from the garage would be a pittance in comparison to the amount of money she'd already spent that night, so she determined this was her best option.

Limping into the garage, having ignored a few catcalls that had made her put pressure on her injured foot to hastily get to safety, Paige breathed a sigh of relief when she quickly deduced that no one was on the ground level. Ever the mom, she hobbled into the kitchen first and then back to the door so she could begin mopping up her wet and bloody footprints. It was when she was on her hands and knees, tail in the air, that Walter silently emerged down the stairs from his reverie on the roof.

He was had been startled by the sound of the door, and then relieved when he started to descend the stairs to find it was Paige. He paused for a moment, wondering if her presence indicated that she and Simon had simply had a quick tryst, or telltale of an evening that had not gone at all as planned. The corner of his mouth twitched as he couldn't help but admire her derrière as it wagged in the air as she was wiping at the floor, but then quickly noticed her dirty and possibly injured feet. Even if they were in the midst of an argument, his concern for her well-being was his paramount. "Paige?" he asked. "Are you ok?"

Paige froze in mid-mop, horrified at Walter seeing her like this. She let her arms rest on their elbows and her head dropped down, putting her close to a humiliating fetal position. That did it. She started to cry again. She refused to fall down altogether on the cold floor, though that's exactly what she wanted to do. "No?" was all she managed to wail.

Walter didn't hesitate as he sailed down the steps and knelt down next to Paige. He paused only a moment. "Put your arms around my neck," he instructed. She looked up at him in mid-sob, cringing at the thought of how she must look, and did as she was told. He slid one arm around her back and the other under her knees and gracefully stood and strode into the kitchen, carefully setting her down on the kitchen counter. He ripped a paper towel off the dispenser and handed it to her, unsure of what to say. He patiently waited for her to clean her face as her sobs subsided, though tears continued to roll down her pink cheeks. He scanned her for other injuries, eager to know what had happened. She appeared unscathed other than her feet, but he noted goose bumps on her arms and that she was shaking slightly. "Are you cold?" he quietly prodded. "Would you like a blanket?"

"No," she quickly said. "I don't need anything from you." He winced as her words cut him to the quick.

She felt even more terrible. This was sweet, sensitive Walter. The one he insisted didn't exist. The one she wanted to see so much more of, and here she was biting his head off. But she was still mad, and hurt too. His words had stung so much. Still, here she was, interrupting his evening, showing up unannounced at what was technically his place, after slapping him in the face. "Wow, mixed signals much Paige?" she scolded herself. She let out a sigh and whispered. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being an intrusion right now and I appreciate your help. I'm just still…pretty hurt by the things you said." She couldn't look at him as she spoke, just playing with the sodden paper towel in her hands and alternatively using it to blot her tears from her cheeks.

"Paige…" Walter's voice trailed off….he didn't know how to continue. Yes, he was sorry for the things he'd said, ok, yelled, earlier, but it didn't mean he wasn't upset with her too. Exactly why he was upset was something he was still piecing together, but he had come to the conclusion during his earlier analysis of their heated conversation that he had acted like a complete jerk. He hated apologizing, but only contemplated it for another moment before recognizing this would perhaps re-open a hopefully calmer conversation between them. That was something he desperately wanted, though he had no idea where it would exactly lead. "I'm sorry for the things I said earlier," he began. "I-I s-said them in anger. I didn't m-mean them and have been trying to pinpoint the source of my irritated state since you left."

"And?" Paige murmured, still focused on her paper towel, her heart lifting slightly before she internally admonished it to settle down.

"I uh, didn't come to any conclusions," he stated vaguely. Focus on things within your control, Walter told himself. "We can talk more later if you'd like, but right now, I want to examine your feet. It looks like you stepped on something? I think you're bleeding." He held his hands up as if he were being told to drop a weapon. "May I take a look?"

Paige could only imagine the state her feet were in and she couldn't stand the thought of the first time Walter touching her be a moment of mutual disgust and embarrassment on her end. Then she imagined herself ungracefully trying to see the bottom of her feet in her tiny dress while seated on the kitchen counter while he watched. She eyed the surprisingly empty and surprisingly clean sink next to her and cleared her throat. "Ummm…could I soak them first? I promise to clean the sink before I leave. I wound up having to take off my shoes and after walking the pristine side walks of Los Angeles, and I'm sure they aren't anything you want to see, let alone touch right now," she tried to joke.

Walter nodded, closed the drain after regulating the water and began to fill the sink, pumping several shots of the antibacterial soap in while it filled. "Paige, can I ask what happened to you? I was up on the roof when you came in, and found you on your knees, injured and crying. Did something happen with Simon? Why were you –"

"Please. Stop," she said, finally looking at him and touching his forearm in the process. "I can't…please just let me have a few moments before we talk?" Her pretty brown eyes looked at him and brimmed with tears again. Walter didn't want to be the cause of anymore of her tears tonight and hoped that at least some of them belonged to Simon. Not that he wanted Paige to cry at all. He just didn't want to be solely responsible for her angst right now.

The sink finished filling and Walter turned off the water, testing it before assuring her it was a safe temperature. Paige attempted to delicately spin herself sideways on the counter before lowering her feet into the delightfully soothing warm, soapy water. She sighed, and both of their moods elevated for the moment.

An awkward silence filled the kitchen as her feet soaked and Paige did nothing but stare at her legs. Walter tried not to stare at her exposed legs. Her dress had hitched around her upper thighs and he wished he could run his hand over her bare skin and under the hem of her dress. He instead opted to put his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet as he tried to think of something to say to her, his mind still racing with the possibilities of what her evening had entailed. Finally, it was Paige who broke the silence.

"Could you, uh, just give me a few minutes alone to clean up a little?" she timidly asked.

"Sure," Walter replied and promptly left the kitchen. The moment he left, Paige reached into the drawer underneath where she was perched, pulled out a kitchen towel and dipped it into the sink water. She inelegantly pulled out her uninjured foot from the sink and tackled the cleaning process. Despite the soak, it was still an unfortunate shade of gray and took quite a bit of scrubbing before she found it acceptable. She also noticed at least three ugly looking blisters from her glorified kitten heels. She lowered her foot back into the sink and focused on her left foot. She cleansed it carefully and found the root of her discomfort. It was a staple nestled right in the ball of her foot. She scrubbed around it as best she could and returned her foot to the sink. She then unplugged the sink, used the towel to wipe the basin of the sink, made a mental note to purchase some new towels for the kitchen of the garage, and called softly to Walter.

Walter had wandered just outside the kitchen to give her the privacy she'd requested and immediately noticed her shifted desk that he'd assaulted after their argument. He moved it back into place, reset the monitor, and began picking up the items he'd swept off her desk – a picture of Ralph, a small desk lamp, a file holder that was now in pieces. After placing them on her desk, hoping they were in the correct locations and that she wouldn't notice the slight lean her file holder was now displaying, he looked around at the papers and folders on the floor. He sheepishly pushed them into one large pile when he heard her call him from the kitchen. He immediately abandoned his task and moved to return to her side, grabbing a blanket from the sofa as an after thought. She was wearing so little, she had to be cold. He walked into the kitchen and offered to place to blanket over her shoulders. She smiled weakly and nodded, murmuring a quiet, "thank you" to him as he placed it gently around her back. Seeing her hug the blanket around herself contentedly made him feel proud for at least being able to keep her warm tonight, oh, how he wished his arms were around her instead. That it was him that she was snuggling into…

Her legs were now propped up on the counter, hanging over instead of inside of the sink. She still couldn't look at him. She spoke to him in a very small voice, "It um, appears I stepped on a staple. It doesn't look too bad, so you don't have to-"

"May I?" asked Walter gently, gesturing with his hand to her left foot. Paige nodded bashfully. He gently placed one hand under the heel of her foot as the other gingerly caressed her outer step and raised it discreetly so he could have a better look. Paige's hands went to her thighs, determined to keep her dress in an appropriate place, secretly wishing his eyes would wander up her legs.

"Yep, it's a staple alright. That's good news. That means it's a clean puncture wound that should have a rapid healing time. I can grab some tweezers, antiseptic and bandages from the loft. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?" he asked.

Paige nodded. "I think so." She looked up at the ceiling as if it might hold the answer. After a moment, she responded, "I think it was 2010, so that should be ok, right?"

"It should," Walter agreed, "But if you experience a puncture wound and it's been more than five years, you should probably get one anyway, just to be safe. You should see your doctor tomorrow." Paige nodded again and Walter left to get the items he'd mentioned. When he returned, he tended to her foot, quickly pulling out the offending metal, and treating it with hydrogen peroxide. When he began to tape a bandage into place, he noticed Paige trying not to giggle as his hands traced new areas of her foot. He suppressed a smile, but not the thought of the other places on her body where she might be ticklish.

When he was finished, Paige swung her legs over the counter so she was now facing him and finally gathered the courage to sustain eye contact with him. "Thank you, Walter," she said quietly. "I appreciate you taking care of me….The last 10 minutes were unfortunately probably the best part of my evening," she joked bitterly. She looked at the clock on the oven for the time. "I need to get back to the sitter within the hour," she began, looking down at the counter as she started to push herself forward so she could stand. Walter impeded her by placing one hand on her knee and one on her shoulder. She quickly stopped and looked up at him. He looked into her eyes. They were puffy now, but still so pretty. He raised his eyebrows and his face transformed into a pleading look. "Could you stay just for a little?" he asked, a bit embarrassed by his pleading timbre. "I will drive you back to your apartment right now if you want, but I would really like to talk to you. Or, or just be with you for a little while to make sure you're ok." Paige melted a little and her eyes welled up again. "Please don't cry, Paige," Walter said softly. "I will do whatever you need me to do, but please don't cry."

Paige willed her tears back down when she heard his naked plea. He looked so sincere in this moment and she reflected on her earlier wish for stupid Simon to offer her a ride - for Simon to show a bit of gallantry. And here was Walter, after their terrible confrontation, showing empathy, remorse, kindness, and most importantly and simply, here was Walter.

"You said you were up on the roof?" she asked hoarsely. Walter nodded. "It calms me after a rain. The negative ions that we inhale produce biochemical reactions that help relieve stress and – "

She cut him off, gripping his hand. "Let's go up to the roof." She started to try and stand again, but he scooped her into his arms for the second time that night. "You shouldn't put any pressure on your foot tonight. And I'll get you my slippers on the way up so you're feet won't be subject to any more injury." Paige, reminding herself that she was still angry with him, said nothing, but placed one arm around his neck for support and allowed her head to rest against his chest, reveling in his warmth and the feeling of safety in his arms, as he carried her up the stairs.

And…scene! Thoughts?! (Did I say thank you?!) DFPF